A Daughters Final Words...

In my healing process since the death of my mother, I have neglected getting things off my chest in the form of writing. Something I have been recently told I do very well. Yet, in true Alisen fashion - I simply shrug it off as nothing I do (in my own mind) is good enough for the praise of others... I mean really... I am who I am, I do what I do, I write and say as I please. If you like me for it - awesome... (big smile) if you don't - eh.. who needs ya. What I do and who I am is just me.. simple me. Nothing that special.

Anyway...

I wanted to share with you the eulogy that I wrote for my mom. For those of you who were there and heard my brothers eulogy - you will notice a common theme... Jokes and laughter, card playing and the love of family....

In many ways - I wish for a "Do Over" to be able to have more moments with my mom. But I know I did what I could... in many ways I did what was nearly impossible. I know I was there for her in the days she needed me the most and I know that she would be proud of the memorial service which we had for her in PA as well as the get together of cousins back in her small home town in IL prior to her internment (which was the hardest thing I have ever faced in my entire life).

Maybe in my final goodbye to my mother - I was able to articulate into words that made sense... just some of the wonderful things about my mom and how I saw her. If not, know this... although we had our moments (and who doesn't) and she could be as stubborn as a mule... (gee where do I get it from) I loved her with all my heart. I respected her more in my later years as I found myself maturing... sharing with her in life's everyday adventures or pleasures. Those were the things that made her smile... "How was you lunch Alisen? What did you have? What are you making for dinner?" (She loved food... lol)

Maybe I was meant to go through this tragedy for others to publicly witness so that they could draw upon my strength to gain wisdom or hope for themselves... who knows.

Anyway - these are my words - no matter how difficult life is with family... no matter how many petty bullshit differences you may have of the he said she said crap in your life... no matter what dysfunctional "issues" you face... say your peace. Grow up and move on. Life as we all know it to be... really is short and a LOT can happen in even a short year. This time last year? I was helping my mom unpack in her new home. Now, I have to face going back to DE to pack THAT place back up and put her things in storage and sell the house.

Here is the Eulogy.

We wanted to thank you all for being here in support of our family as we celebrate the life of our mother Pam.

The life of party, wasn’t she? There truly wasn’t a day that I can remember her not smiling or joking about something.  Always trying to see and experience the lighter side of life. It didn’t matter if it was family night playing Yahtzee, Monopoly or a game of hearts and she caught someone cheating…. Or if it was just prior to settling on the sale of a house and finding out the termite inspection came back bad… Pam always had that signature smile on her face. The one that welcomes you, embraces you and makes you feel invited… makes you feel like you have been a life long friend. For many of you here today that truly was the case… You have been lifelong friends or associates of our mother. One thing is for sure, we will all miss that smile.

When asked about my mother’s life, I can sit back and honestly say that much of the reason she always had the smile on her face was because she was comfortable in her own skin. A phrase I heard my mother use on many occasions.  It didn’t matter where she was, what she was doing, who she was with or what she was wearing… she knew that she was always putting her best foot forward without having to try to be something she wasn’t. She was very accepting of others and learned just as much as she taught. She had a sharp, quick witted sense of humor even up til her last few days. The Friday prior to her passing she and I were discussing arrangements she wanted for her funeral and in that oh so familiar Pam tone she made the comment of, “Nothing like a woman to plan a party”. That was her humor which you either liked or you didn’t. But she was comfortable with it and it was a big part of her.

The measurements of a successful life are broken down into a few small components.  Love with all your heart, Laugh as much as you can and be honest with those around you. My mom lived by all of these.

She had the strongest and most giving heart of anyone I have ever known. Her compassion and generosity allowed her to do for others what she could without being asked. She was a caring friend who was an excellent ear or a concerned neighbor who voiced her opinion when asked for advice. Bottom line, she was there for you when you called upon her.

I believe that all of the aforementioned were the main reasons she felt so at home at the Devon Horse Show. She was surrounded by similar people who had the same values. Besides her children, her life at Devon was by far one of the most cherished and beloved accomplishments in her life. Every year, for three decades, there was an electric energy in our home around that magical Devon Week. She loved volunteering on the grounds knowing and taking pride in the fact that she was helping her community. It was the happiest I ever saw her.

Pam wouldn’t be Pam if we didn’t mention her tenacity, aggression and straightforwardness. She saw something she wanted and she made up her mind that she would do what it took to obtain it. Weather it was a tangible item she was after or a goal she set up for herself… she worked hard to get it.  Growing up I witnessed this at her years at Devon, within her successful real estate career and most recently facing cancer… twice. As with any difficult situation that comes knocking at our door – we can choose to either ignore the knocking or open the door. When you open the door, you give yourself the chance to fight. Mom chose to fight. She always did. She fought for her children, she fought for her successes, she fought for life.

As we enter into Autumn and we see the leaves changing from green to all those vibrant shades of orange, red and yellow… I remind myself that as with life, seasons change. You can hold onto the past season and remember it fondly for the days it gave you… the warm embrace of a fire as it snows outside, the bright wonderful rays of sunshine on your face, and the life renewed each spring.

As we remember my mother and think about her life, today and every day thereafter… I will choose to open the door… I will walk outside, take a deep breath and relish the vibrant colors in front of me… 

95 Hours of Fog

Imagine living in a world where as soon as you wake up and look out your window... all you can see is dense fog... Like living in Maine in some quaint harbor fishing village. Trying to see through the early morning haze when the only people awake are those fishermen at 5am about ready to depart the docks. You trip over your feet it is so foggy.

Ever since I got the call at 5:58am on Monday July 25th and the minutes thereafter - I have been standing in that dense fog. I can't see, I don't know which direction to go (or which direction is up), and I am surely tripping over my feet. The fog is so thick that I can feel the moisture as I breathe in... or maybe those are just the tears falling into my mouth...

The thing about fog - especially when it is that dense... it can be kind of a blanket. It is thicker then, "regular" air... it almost wraps around you and holds you tight. Now, that may be comforting... it may be constricting... to me - I don't know what it is other than fucking annoying. I don't want to be held. I don't want to be smothered. Or do I? I guess that is why they call it fog. It clouds your vision.

Therefore - not knowing what I want... or which direction to go... I speak to the local Old Salt on the dock. He is wrapping netting and securing his gear. he tells me that in time - the fog lifts... that as the dawn of each day gets warmer and warmer, it gets clearer. The gulls will come in and squawk and will distract you and before you know it - the heavy blanket around you and the blurry vision goes away. He continues to tell me that even after the dense fog lifts... that my skin will still be moist and it will take me a bit to dry out.

My mind rushes to the song by Jordin Sparks... No Air:
"Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air"
"Can't live, can't breathe with no air"
"That's how I feel whenever you ain't there"
"There's no air, no air"
"Got me out here in the water so deep"
"Tell me how you gonna be without me"
"If you aint here, I just can't breathe"
"There's no air.... no air"

I must have been caught in thought forever - I don't blink for what seems like an hour... I look up and the Old Salt is under way heading out past the breakwaters with a cloud of gulls flying over his boat.

Fog.... amazing how it just clouds everything. Just on the other side of it - the unknown. The unknown doesn't scare me as it does for most people. I embrace it actually... it was how I was raised. It is the wait to get to the other side to find out what the answers are. I have a bit of an impatience issue it seems. Again - it was how I was raised. I only want to be kept in the loop - to know what steps are being taken. But the fog gets in the way and I can't see.

The sickness, sorrow and angst that consumed my mother in the last few months has been on my mind and has had me walking around like a zombie. I blockaded myself off from the world and hid behind that fog. Maybe that is why Old Salt's are viewed as cranky - they just need time to themselves to heal from a bad days worth of fishing.

Yet somewhere - out in the distance - along the breakwaters - there is hope. A beacon of light that shines for all the mariners to see... it gives them a path to follow for their return trip. Although it is battered and beaten from the weather... it stands firm and proud. It has been there forever and will continue to stand to guide those who need it.

I am hoping my fog lifts soon... I am hoping that time will heal and my skin will dry off. I will look up to the sky and look at the gulls and tell them.... as long as you don't shit on me... I'll be ok.

Waiting to Exhale...

Yeah, so I "borrowed" a title... whatever.

So sorry it has been a while since we last blogged. I have been kind of busy and preoccupied.
Mother's Day (which should have been one of those golden moments being pregnant with my 1st child) turned out to be a bit of a bust. My husband made a grand effort to make my day a very special one and I love, adore and appreciate all he did for me that morning.

That afternoon however... brought such a turn of events which tested my fortitude in such a grand capacity that I was seriously surprised I didn't have my child that day, 3 months early.

Many of you know that I got a call from my mom that day. 2:30pm...
Adam and I were taking stuff to the dump - getting rid of a bunch of crap we no longer needed or that good will (or our community) would take off our hands. All in happy preparation for the 1st phase of "Nesting".
My phone rings and it's my mom. (who I already spoke with as soon as I woke up to wish her a happy mother's day... and at that time - didn't sound good AT ALL)

She was scared (which she has never ever admitted to me in all my life - even when she was going through breast cancer 15 yrs ago), and concerned that she may not make it through the night. (SHIT)
She asked me to get a hold of my brother in MD and tell him that he needs to leave to drive the hour and a half to stay with her through the night because she doesn't think she will make it and needs him there.
Needless to say - I call... and call and call... no answer for 15 minutes which seems like an eternity as I sit beside my husband looking blankly at him while we are at the dump.

Finally Carter answers - I explain to him the situation and he gives me flak. Saying things like - "I just spoke to her this morning and she said she was "fine". (Really Carter? I tell him that a LOT can change in the matter of only a few hours and that I don't think he understands the situation....) *carter raising voice and getting all pussy hurt...* "Don't understand the situation!?!? I have been there for her every weekend (LIE) by her side (LIE) helping her with Doctors and making appointments and being there for her in every capacity (LIE) and you say I don't understand the situation?!?!?" (SIGH)

While I explain to my older brother that I am grateful that he has been there and so glad to know that he (finally) gives a frog's fat ass about his own mother (in so many words), that I was there too, 15 years ago, by myself... doing it ALONE for her. And while this cancer is more aggressive and waaay different... that this is not a "which child is better at taking care of mom" contest - that (word for word) "Let's not compare the size of our dicks here" - this is about Mom, and her needs and not who has the better Florence Nightingale persona. (The reality check was enough for him to walk away from the bbq he was holding at his house just enough for him to call mom, and tell her - "Oh, Ali didn't tell me it was THIS serious, I'll be there tonight")

2 hours later I am packed and at the airport headed to PA/DE on a red eye.

Scrambling for help - I find angels wanting to assist me in my travels... Amy Moss... a Boobilicious Wonderment of Heaven on Earth... (a walker stalker I have seen for a few years in Philly, a friend with on FB, yet never personally met) She offered at a moments notice to pick me up at the airport and drive me to my mom's house in Southern Delaware. 6am she shows up - WaWa coffee at the ready for me, a bag of snack goodies to keep a preggo happy and a hug and a smile that melted my heart. How wonderful that God sent to me (and to so many others who she helps) a woman (who at my greatest time of need and confusion) who calmed and soothed me and gave without thinking.

When I got to my moms @ 7:15am - I saw and heard just how bad the situation was with my mom.
Here I am at 7 months pregnant, facing the fact that this may be the last trip home where I see my mom alive.

Needless to say the next week was rough. She was admitted into the hospital and my brother basically dropped off the radar that whole week. I guess he figures that while I was there, the situation was under control and he wasn't needed. (SIGH)

Every day - driving over an hour one way to the hospital to go visit mom. I was walking the halls of the hospital a complete zombie on some days due to lack of sleep (for several reasons). I was good about my diet while there and ate every 4 hours and was drinking water like a champ. I was taking care of myself on auto pilot while being there for mom on manual pilot.

There were days (mom doesn't know about and hopefully never will) where after or during a mid visit with mom, I would find myself in her car driving without even thinking of my destination... finding myself back "home" on the Main Line over an hour away - searching out 30 minutes with my best friend, seeking out a family friend to see for 10 minutes for a hug while she was at her sons baseball game, driving through Valley Forge Park, going to go visit an old neighbor to sit and chat with for a few hours.... anything of "normalcy

Oh how I longed for the days when life was "normal".

The next week spent at my mom's home after she was released from the hospital was rough. I did what I could around the house to make her comfortable and fought back the tears hidden behind closed doors. During the entire trip - I had the support of so many wonderful people. People who knew to say the right things needed at the right times. My Westie Bestie checking in with me - but giving me my space to deal, knowing that I'd call on her when needed. Certain actions like that meant the world.

Friday May 20th... My friend Jesse (another angel who I knew back in Elementary School, lost touch with but recently reconnected with thru FB) drove from PA to DE to bring me back to PA.
That morning, I had to shake off whatever nerves I had left. I had to be the strongest I ever was... for her... for me... for my baby. (How do you say good-bye when you don't know if it will be the last time you see her alive? How do you thank her for all she has done for you? How do you not scream and yell and kick and punch? How do you?)

I raised my shirt and put her hand on my belly, fighting back all my emotions. She patted it gently and I bent down to hug her and kiss her on the cheek. I told her how much I love her and to keep drinking plenty of water (I was at a loss for words - but clearly her hydration was important to me at that very moment). I took out her trash cans, packed my bags in Jesse's car and had that massive lump in my throat where I just needed to break down.

Landing back in California and seeing Adam at the airport, I had so many mixed emotions. Guilt of leaving mom - but knowing I had to take care of me and my child. Guilt for leaving Adam for 2 weeks stressing over the fact that his pregnant wife was 3000 miles away dealing with this crap. Guilt for feeling guilty?? I don't know - it was there.

Since then, my mom has restarted her chemo regimen. She has had a few more set backs with her red blood count and her blood platelet counts being very very low. She has admitted more frequently that she is scared. Not so much of dying or what this terminal disease is doing to her... but scared that she won't ever meet her grandson or things of the future. (not quite sure how to respond to her on that or how to handle that whole situation in general)

And no... my brother has not been to seen my mom since the day after Mother's Day... the day I arrived off a red eye from California a month ago.

Again - I am just waiting to exhale....

1992 Poem Found.... woah

Ok so I found a really old poem I wrote from a creative writing class I had in 1992.
Funny how time changes things... lord only knows what would have happened had I...
And where the hell were these teachers that were supposed to be looking out for warning signs... sweet jesus!

The Rock That Nobody Cared About

Walking down a beach, the beach so still yet cheerful, I see a large rock.

Upon that rock I climb.

To sit there and gaze out at the ocean.

I wonder how many people have sat here and thought out their lives.

Letting their emotions, tears, run wild,

Going in and out with the tide.

The warm gentle night breeze runs freely across my face.

Letting the tears fall gently,

Having no more to hide.

Towards the sky I look

Noticing the stars.

So many, looking nearly perfect, like diamonds

Yet having so many flaws, like crevices.

The reflection of the moon on the water dances about,

With the ripples highlighting for a dramatic effect that catches my eye.

The water is calling for me, I slide down the rock.

The rock worn for many years, showing its age with much pride.

As I slide down, my skin rips and tears.

Blood trickles down my leg.

Feeling no pain, no love and mostly no cares.

One foot in front of the other

I feel soft grains of dry sand, moist sand then wet.

Going into the water, the tears stroll down my cheeks.

Looking back every now and then

Trying to reconsider.

Memories of people treasured and held dear,

Only having few regrets 

And only but one fear.

My dress is wet all the way to the top,

Feeling it beneath me flowing like seaweed.

I'm shaking like a child without her mother by her side.

I think I'll let go now, and drift out slowly with the tide.

Like that old and timeless rock upon the beach,

No one cared that it had died.

Hello Life... It's Me...

Knock knock... is anyone there?
Knock know knock.

Hmmm... I guess not.

Interesting to me... life. When you try your best and feel your worst cause of circumstances around you. Like for instance - my not working. I HATE IT! I deplore the fact that I feel this useless. Never in my life have I not worked. I hate not having the financial stability, the drive and the ability to feel like I am contributing. I feel weak.

I know... I am pregnant. I am dealing with my mother who is 3000 miles away and dealing with stage 3 Ovarian Cancer. I should not be doing anything to stress myself out. But what happens when all I do IS stress out about these things. I  do not have the work of a job to keep me busy and keep my mind off of such things. The distraction is always welcomed.

Then there is the "funk" I am in with my social life. I know you all see me, online, laughing and such... but have you noticed I am not really posting about being with anyone - or doing anything? I used to be so much fun (jabbing at myself - I know I still am... but I am trying to make a point). Pregnant or not... I should be more interactive with my friends and I am not. I feel so out of the loop with so many of you that it feels almost fake (sorry - please do not take offense to that - it is this "funk").

I miss hanging out, laughing til my side hurts... and alcohol is not needed for that 99% of the time. I miss hearing stories of any kind. I miss the faces and the hugs.

Oh and I miss football - who I consider a friend too ;)

I think this whole Spring I have been weighing heavily on my mind that my mom may not make it through this bought with cancer and I don't know how to cope. I think I have been active in so many walks and fundraisers and things like that over the past years that I never thought it would hit again, cancer.

Struggling with the fact that over the years I have walked the path that many do... and sometimes alone (which I never am, yet this time for some reason I do feel that way). That over the years I have held out my hand to so many with helpful ideas, words of comfort or gestures of kind and this time when I feel like I should know just about everything... about this disease... I should have the answers... but I don't.

And I don't know what to do about that conundrum or those thoughts.

Here I am almost 7 months pregnant with my first child... Trust me, I am overjoyed. And he will know all about his Grandmother if he doesn't get to meet her or be held my her. He will learn all the things about "PAM". How strong and independent she was in the late 80's after a long divorce. How she sacrificed. How she loved to have dinner parties at our house growing up and how I would dress up and serve the grown ups cause my mom gave me that important job. How she had a good sense of business, a good sense of fashion, how she organized and ran massive fundraising events, (Jr. Saturday Club, Gimbles Day Parade - Later to be the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, 30 Years as Chairman at the Devon Horse Show) to give back to her community and how she laughed.

There are so many things inside my head about Life. About how we ALL have uttered at many points in our lifetime of how "LIFE" isn't fair.

Isn't it? A gift we are given... and we say it isn't fair. Contradictory to me. Yet I feel that way. We all know that death is a part of life and we just can't face it. When it is THAT close to you and you can't do anything about it. It is like that helpless feeling I get cause I am not working. I feel shitty about it.

Struggling between life (pregnancy) and death (5 out of the 6 people on my mom's cancer team have said Terminal) and the areas in between and how to deal with them while feeling negligent to my close friends.... I just feel lost and have nothing more to say other than I am sorry, I hope you understand.

I seriously could use some fucking coffee... *sigh*

Funnel Cakes, Lemon Sticks, Ferris Wheels & Dressage...

OK... so it is starting to become "That Time of Year" again... a time which as a child, teenager and young adult... I looked forward to. The smell of early summer thunderstorms right before the heavens opened up... or right after when the humidity smelled like asphalt and freshly cut grass. In the evenings we were lucky enough to start seeing the first glimpses of Lightning Bugs blinking in the distance and we looked forward to the last few days of school as we stared out our bedroom windows hoping for Summer to arrive.


For me... I grew up in an area steeped in tradition and history. Many people who grew up in the Northeast can say the same, but few have the experience that I had. My mom became involved in the community almost as soon as we moved to the Main Line (Wayne, PA) back in the winter of 1978. One of the organizations she became deeply involved in - was the Devon Horse Show & Country Fair. For over 30 years she volunteered, headed fundraising galas and dinners, ran various committees on the grounds and was an esteemed and loved Chairman there. 


Growing up around this environment gave me (I think) the heart that I grew into (I didn't always have this carefree loving spirit you all know me to have today, and at times I was quite the handful). I started volunteering at the Devon Horse Show on the Candy Committee - as a "Striper" (Not stripper... for my male friends you better zip your lip before I pop you one). I would have a rectangular wicker basket hung from a wide ribbon around my neck and I would walk up and down the grandstands much like a hot dog vendor at a baseball game. I would sell gum, candy and a Devon Favorite - Fresh Lemon Sticks. It was the summer of 1980 and I was only 5 years old... and at that time the age wasn't a factor, nowadays I think you have to be at least 12 to volunteer. It was my first "job" and I felt important. I was the Carrie Ingles or Laura Ingles-Wilder Little house on the Prairie look a like child with long flowing golden locks but dressed in the preppy pink and green outfits that became synonymous with the Main Line crowd. 


After a few years of volunteering, it was no longer just a way to make my parents proud... but it became a part of my life. Something I looked forward to every year. Plus, my mom was always near by somewhere on the Show Grounds so I always was able to see her if I wanted.


At around age 9 I was "Promoted" to the Midway area - where my mom was now Chairman. I worked the Duck Pond along side a few older girls who were maybe 12. It was my first taste of Midway and I would later learn that it was the place where all the "Cool" kids would hang out, eat funnel cake, go to the top of the Ferris wheel with boys and sneak off away from their parents. I worked Midway until I was 19 in various areas including the highly sought after Air conditioned ticket booth.


During these formative years at Devon, there were many people I grew up with, many of whom I considered family - as they had seen me grow up in-front of their eyes. Devon gets under your skin, it becomes a part of you. And no matter how many times you say, "This will be my last year" it never is. 


My last year of volunteering at Devon was May/June of 1999. I had already at that time been dating my then boyfriend long distance for 3-4 months and was trying to find myself in life and in love. 3 Months later I moved 3000 miles away from everything I ever knew and moved to California to start my life with my boyfriend, Adam. 


I wouldn't go back to Devon for years and when I did, I noticed not much had changed... the dusty arena still smelled the same, you could smell the hamburgers and hot dogs cooking, you could hear the announcements and crowds in the grandstands... and if the wind hit just right - you could smell an interesting mix of the wonderful funnel cakes and the horse stables just beyond that! lol. You witnessed the "Grand Dams" walking around with their $2500 hats on that were the size of today's Smart Cars and the men walking around in their Madras Plaid golf pants, leather braided belts and polo shirts while wearing their aviator sunglasses. Yep... not much has changed.


It's called tradition. It's called Devon Week. That last week of May, first week of June. And as that time approaches and I realize how much I miss it and those traditions... it hits me...


My mom who devoted her life to the running of the show behind the scenes... who helped raised hundreds of thousands of dollars every year to benefit the Bryn Mawr Hospital - a hospital where she would later go for her Breast Cancer surgeries and treatments... will never be seen there again. Her last years there were spent in the Blue Room... a prestigious area that not too many Devon go-ers know about. The high rollers, famous, Chairmen and Board Members go there for hors d'oeuvres and stashed bottles of liquor. It was a high honor to be a Chairman of the Blue Room and that was how my mom "went out". 


The smell of cotton candy, funnel cakes, lemon sticks and horses... yes they are all very very sweet and remind me of Devon.


A smell even sweeter? Success. And in my eyes my mom did that for Devon.


God how I miss both.

Mr. Grey

Let me introduce you to a person who can't be decisive on anything. He can't decide on Black or White... only the confusing shade of Grey in the middle. But... when a decision is made... it is made HIS way. Period.

You try desperately to give your opinion... you even back it with proof, knowledge and compassion. Nope... He  over-talks you as you speak and talks down to you as if you were a 6 year old with a 3 year old mentality.

He steps away from your family at the age of 19 to rarely be around after that, even though you try your best to include him. You love him with all his faults and miss him terribly... or at least you miss the person he USED to be. When he does step back in... he does it with such a lack of compassion, or understanding or care for others feelings or desires, that it leaves you wondering if Mr Grey should have even been brought or invited back.

Harsh, overbearing, manipulative, condescending.
Forgetful, mean, pushy, better-than-thou.
Self-Entitled, arrogant, non-communicative and non listening.

I struggle to deal with the fact that Mr Grey is the Brother to Little Miss Sunshine (Me).
I sit here with the, "I just don't get it" mentality wondering how the hell he can be such a horses ass.

Maybe he chose to step away from family reality a long time ago and just doesn't have the sack to admit he was wrong and needs family in his life. That he needs to calm things down a bit and that he isn't always right.
(For God's sake he was calling my mom's cancer, Stomach Cancer and when I corrected him he tells me, "I am not going to sit here and argue about it Ali... we can discuss details later". I was appalled)

Anywho... I am sure we all have a Mr Grey in our lives... a boss, a friend, a cousin... I am curious... am I the only one dealing with such idiot-ness?

7-Eleven ~vs~ Home Grind...a friendship comparison

So as I sit here wide awake due to the fact that my child in the womb refuses to sleep, I have decided to start my own blog. Not that you all haven't had your fair share of my raw honesty or humor on Facebook.

So I know we all have our vices... some it's alcohol, some like bubble baths, some love running, some love coffee and some love porn or sex...
well.. me? Aside from running? All of the above please... ;)

Actually For me... it's coffee... over the years I thought I really knew that I liked coffee, needed coffee and thought I had grown up tastes... until Adam and I went to Kona Hawaii for our 5 year wedding anniversary. No longer do I take cream in my coffee (or seldom do now) because I want to be able to taste the coffee, not the cream. Besides... who needs to add extra around the hips?

So I get to thinking... I used to be able to stop in at a 7-Eleven, WaWa or even am/pm and grab a cup of their coffee and be okay with it... cause it was quick, easy and cheap... there are times I grind mine fresh at home and nothing to me tastes better (cause frankly no one can make it better)... then I really get to thinking...

Have you ever slept over at a friends house... or gone over for a "simple" chat about life... or been hungover and your friend offers you a cup of coffee? You shake your head cause you love coffee and think, "Sure.. I could go for a cup!"

Now... at that point in time it doesn't matter if it is Folgers, Starbucks, Peet's or Chicory root... cause you get the first sniff of it brewing... your senses overloaded with that wonderful smell which makes you all warm and fuzzy inside... and you smile.

You sit down with your friend at the table, lift your cup under your nose... feeling the hot moist flavorful steam and.... SLUUUUURP.... ah! That first sip. You instantly feel warm and happy and all is good in the world. You open your eyes, looking at your friend over the rim of the cup and... SLUUUURP... ah! 2nd sip is just as wonderful!!! Suddenly you realize something... the love that was put into a $0.15 cent cup of joe at your friends house tastes FAR better than a $6 "quality" cup at Starbucks or the ease and convenience of a $2 cup at 7-Eleven.

Why is that? To some people.. coffee is coffee no matter where they get it... cause their "Tastes" are simple.
(I would like to thank Hawaii for changing my mind on the reality of THAT one).

Back to my point...
It tastes better when a friend makes it cause there is love there. There is friendship there. You could be having the worst day ever and your friend picks your spirits up by offering his or her love in liquid gold form. And it is heaven. It is what you need to fill the void, answer questions, heal the pain or give you a much needed laugh.
It always tastes better... period.

So over the past few weeks, I have had 2 similar conversations with others about friendships. I know that friends come and go, but hopefully... if you are lucky... you can hold up one hand proudly and count those who are near and dear and who are true blue forever friends. The ones who dry you off after the rain and warm your soul with a cup of coffee.

Friends shouldn't be that of convenience... the $2 cups that you trash the cup when done. Real friendships shouldn't be that of grandeur either... the fancy China that you serve your coffee in only on "Special Occasions". True Blue Friendships should be served in an old weathered mug, full of character, worn handles and maybe a chip or two... with stains from repeated "visits" of love in a cup.

Have you ever needed someone in times of trouble or sadness and you are in a jam? Like you need someone to pick you up late at the airport and you get every offer prior to that by "friends" saying, "Yes... if you EVER need me for anything... call me... I'll be there"... so you call... and they flake or are too busy or don't even answer? Yet you would do it for them without so much as a second thought? What the fuck is up with THAT? Yet others completely surprise you and say, "Hey.. I'll come get you" (someone whom you haven't seen in years and years and years and you aren't very close with yet they have the heart to help?) That is the cup of coffee you needed. The "Perk" from that friend picks you up and makes you feel warm and fuzzy. And you are grateful cause they would never expect it from you in return - although you know you would do it for them anyway.

Friendships of convenience are fake and harsh and underlined with pretentious bullshit hassles which make you second guess yourself and who you are as a person. "I do this for them, yet they never do it back when asked".

What ever happened to "Do unto others as you'd have done unto yourself"??

Is life THAT hectic? Have we grown THAT accustomed to conveniences like 7-Eleven that we have "Drive thru" friendships now?
What the hell is THAT???

Now granted, I realize I have "friends" far and wide... and I pray that I am not one of those 7-Eleven types of coffee for you...

I hope that even if we don't see each other often, that you know you are thought of fondly and that hopefully if I make you smile once a week with some stupid or silly post on Facebook that I am there with you... sharing a cup of home ground brew in a cup that has a picture of Garfield on it that says "Mornings Suck" and the handle has been glued back on... twice.